The air is blazing on the Greek island. There is a faint breeze blowing off the shore, but it does little to cool the afternoon. Sitting comfortably in my beach chair, I wiggle my toes in the sand, digging them deeper and feeling the hot, dry grains give way to the wetter and more compact sublayer of the beach.

The tidal shelf extends all of three feet. There is a small gradient just in front of me which accommodates it, and up which the apologetic waves race in a gentle culmination of sound and motion. I push my feet forward towards the waves, seeing how close I can get without actually touching the water; get it wrong and you get them wet, for a count of two, or at most, three. It’s not an unpleasant mistake. There are people around me on this friendly Greek island, but none of them talk…